I know the way because I love you so;
But I have written griefs that I have known
In other's heart's blood, never in my own.
If _you_ died what more could be sung or said?
I could not sing of Death if you were dead.

Dear, do not love!
Do not love _me_, keep still aloof, above!
While you and Love in far-off glory stand
Clear sounds the voice, and harp responds to hand.
But if you loved me--if you came quite near
And set Love 'mid life's common things and dear--
Mute would the voice be, Love would be too fair
To waste upon the wide world's empty air,
And, songless, I should droop and vainly pine--
I could not sing of Love if you were mine!

_E. Nesbit._

[Illustration.]

VIII.

I know the way she went
Home with her maiden posy,
For her feet have touch'd the meadows
And left the daisies rosy.

_Tennyson._

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

IX.

A golden radiance shines,
And day declines;
Red in the dying sun,
Day's course is run;
And weary labourers have homeward gone,
Their day's work done.

The cornfield now is still,
To-morrow will
Bring back the men who reap:
But now asleep
The woods and fields and meadows seem to lie--
Restful as I.

_E. Nesbit._

[Illustration]

X.

As a twig trembles which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;
I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;--
I only know she came and went.

As at one bound, our swift Spring heaps
The orchard full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;--
I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;--
I only know she came and went.

[Illustration]

Oh, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think she came and went.

_J.R. Lowell._

[Illustration]

XI.

EVENING SONG.

Waking, I dream of thy life that shall be
Never by sorrow made weary;
Earth shall be soft with love for thee,
Down-lined the nest of my dearie.
Millions of flowers to gladden thy way,
Springing from seeds that